


Every Other Saturday

by siobhane



Series: Shooting Star [1]
Category: Final Fantasy VIII
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Explicit Language, Guilt, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Imprisonment, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Prequel, Sexual Content, Slash Pair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2016-09-29
Packaged: 2018-08-17 00:00:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8122678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siobhane/pseuds/siobhane
Summary: Convinced Seifer can explain why Rinoa didn't return from Time Compression with the others, Zell visits him in prison.  Serving a 9 year sentence for his crimes, Seifer has little reason to care.  All Zell wants are a few answers, but maybe, he's asking all the wrong questions. (Side-tale/back-story/prequel to "Promise of a Shooting Star." Readable as a stand alone, may contain a spoiler or two)COMPLETED





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Set before the events of the main story and chronicles the evolution of their relationship over the course of a ten year period. Contains a few scenes referenced in the main work, but is mostly a stand alone/side tale. Basically, I wrote a lot of back-story for these two that didn't make it into the main fic. It's a little heavier than the typical Seifer/Zell fic but I liked it too much to not do anything with, so I turned it into a four part short. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

 

* * *

  _ **One**_

* * *

 

There's something hollow and vacant in his eyes.

That's the first thing Zell notices as he looks at Seifer through the prison's glass partition in the visiting room of D-District. The man sitting before him is empty, like no one Zell knows inhabits his body.

This is a shell of Seifer Almasy, not Seifer himself. For a minute, Zell is ashamed of himself for coming here. This is a broken man, one who isn't all there anymore, and maybe there's nothing to gain by being here.

He remembers this version of Seifer from the trial some months ago. That blank emptiness in his eyes and hollow nothing in his voice as he spoke before the court - it's still there. His voice is flat and emotionless and there's a calm but distant acceptance of his plight. As if nothing matters to him anymore.

There's nothing here Zell recognizes. There's no passion or fire. This is just a paper copy of the most undeniably _alive_ person Zell has ever known.

He stares through the glass at his former enemy and wonders how someone with so much promise ended up this way. Seifer could have been so much more than what he became.

Then, Zell remembers why he's here, and he thinks about how awful Seifer was to him growing up. He steels himself against sympathy and reminds himself of what Seifer did to wind up here.

Seifer is the only person who can give Zell the answers he seeks, and he only has thirty minutes before his time is up. That's all the time he gets, and it isn't nearly enough. But Zell has to try, for Rinoa's sake. Seifer must know something, maybe where she is, what happened to her, and how to get her back.

Zell picks up the phone and stares at Seifer through a thick, smudged pane of Plexiglas and tries to put into words his thoughts and his questions. He is full of grief and rage, and the words that spill from his lips are much less eloquent or intelligent than planned.

"Fuck you, Almasy."

Seifer stares back at him, and the blankness shifts into something like dull recognition.

"You came all this way to say that, chicken-wuss?"

"Yeah, and I'll say it again. _Fuck you._ "

Seifer laughs, but he doesn't mean it. It's predictable and automatic and completely without soul.

"It's your fault she didn't come back," Zell growls into the phone. "It's _your_ fault all this happened in the first place, so fuck you, you miserable, hateful, lousy piece of shit!"

This isn't why he came, but he can't control his mouth. His heart hurts too much. He lost someone important, some one he cared about, and it matters. Seifer needs to know how much she matters, and Zell can't stop the venomous words from spilling out all over the place.

"Say something!" Zell screams at the phone.

"What do you want me to say?"

There's no life in Seifer's voice, not a hint of pride. Nothing. Nothing at all. It's a lot like talking to Squall. Except the hurt in Squall is almost palpable, something quantifiable. Seifer is devoid of any emotion Zell recognizes.

"Tell me why," Zell demands.

"Why did you come here, Dincht?"

"I want answers."

"What does it matter?" Seifer asks. "It won't change anything."

"I hate you, Almasy. I hope you know that."

"Not your biggest fan either."

"Aww, go fuck yourself," Zell spits. "We should have killed you when we had the chance."

This time, Seifer's laughter is closer to real. There's still a note of falseness in it, but there's the faintest spark of life in Seifer's dead eyes.

"You tried and failed every time, Dincht," Seifer says. "You had your chance and you blew it. How you assholes managed to take down Ultimecia is beyond me."

"We could have taken you out, you moron!" Zell said. "Don't you get that? We spared you because you were one of us!"

The light leaves Seifer's eyes and his gaze goes flat and dark.

"You didn't do me any favors," Seifer says. "And I was never one of you."

Zell starts spitting obscenities into the phone. He wants to break through the glass and shake the life back into him, to break ribs and bones and hurt Seifer the way he hurts on the inside. He wants to make him suffer the way the rest of them are suffering.

Rough hands seize Zell from behind and he fights them, still screaming at the scarred blonde man behind the glass as he is dragged from the room. Seifer's face is totally blank as he gets up and walks away.

* * *

 

Seifer Almasy lay on the bunk in his cell and stared at the ceiling. His eyes followed the cracks in the concrete, from one end of the room to the other, and he wondered if that was what he looked like on the inside.

He supposed he probably looked more like a windshield after you threw a brick through it – a splintered web of fragments that radiated out from the point of impact.

There was no putting him back together. The damage was permanent, and it left a great, big hole right through the middle of him.

Below him on the bunk, his cell mate muttered disgusting things in his sleep, things Seifer knew he should be outraged by, but couldn't bring himself to give a damn about.

He felt nothing. Not since Ultimecia let go of his mind. He remembered everything, everything that happened and everything he was made to do. Now, he was supposed to feel guilt and remorse and a thousand other things, but there was nothing there. He didn't even feel sorry for himself, lying there in a cell in D-District with a nine year sentence still ahead of him.

Even taunting Dincht gave him no satisfaction. He sat there, a forgery of himself as he pretended to enjoy watching Dincht lose his shit. He was supposed to feel something, amusement or irritation or anger, but he was just a fraud.

He should have felt something for Rinoa, too. He cared for her once, maybe even loved her, but he didn't remember what that felt like either.

Seifer was okay with not feeling, though. If the numbness ever went away, he would be crushed under the weight of his sins. For now, he was content living this colorless half-life behind bars.

* * *

 

Zell is the best man in Selphie and Irvine's wedding. At the reception, he leads a toast to the happy couple and wishes them well, but he envies what they have. He can barely stand to see their joy, and even though he knows it won't last, he wishes he was in their place.

There is an empty chair next to Squall, where Rinoa should be sitting and isn't.

He still doesn't understand what happened to her, or why she never came back. All he knows is that she's not there, and her absence doesn't go unnoticed.

Zell drinks too much and and lets his date drag him up to her hotel room. She kisses him and drags him down into the bed, peels off his suit jacket and tie, and Zell plays along because he's eighteen, and he's supposed to like this. Her teeth knock against his, and it's a kind of drunk and sloppy kissing that he doesn't particularly enjoy.

He pretends he's into it, and if he closes his eyes, he can convince himself he likes it, but he feels nothing at all when she guides his hand to her breast, under the shirt, and over the bra and tells him he can do more if he wants. 

He wonders what's wrong with him for not finding this more exciting. To hear the guys in the locker room talk, breasts were near-mythical objects worthy of zealous worship, but Zell isn't even a _little_ turned on by it.  He doesn't know what to do, so he just squeezes until she gets annoyed and moves his hand elsewhere.

Zell spends the next few days looking at girls and feels creepy about staring at breasts and hips and legs as he tries to understand what it is that other guys find so fascinating. Girls are beautiful – short, tall curvy, lean, plump – he thinks they're all great, and he appreciates the female body in an aesthetic way, but after days of observation, he realizes, not one of them stirs him physically.

Both Selphie and Quistis are gorgeous. Selphie has that cute girl-next-door thing, with her flipped hair and her big, innocent green eyes. Quistis is without a doubt, the most beautiful girl in the whole place and Zell tells himself he isn't physically attracted because they're like sisters to him.

But he's not really attracted to _anyone_ and that worries him.

Zell spends a lot of time with Quistis in his off hours, and she's often his date to Garden events. Some of their peers speculate there's something going on between them, and sometimes, Zell wonders why there isn't.  The Trepies are beside themselves about why Quistis would choose Zell, but they don't know he's content to just be her friend.

Quistis gets too drunk at the Garden Festival and she begins to weep for a hundred different reasons she can't articulate. Zell patiently listens and offers a shoulder to cry on because she's lonely and sad and her mascara runs as she sobs into Zell's neck. He decides she's too drunk and takes her up to her room to put her to bed and winds up letting her cry herself to sleep in his arms.

Zell thinks about this as he lays awake in the darkness with Quistis' body pressed against his in the narrow bed. There are a hundred guys in this place that would give anything to be where he is now, many of them unscrupulous enough to take advantage of her loneliness and her intoxication, and he's glad he's the one in her bed and not one of them.

He tries to think of her as someone else, someone other than his friend, to see if that stirs anything in him but all he feels is an almost brotherly duty to protect and look after her. 

Irvine, clearly up to no good himself, catches him sneaking out shortly after dawn.

"You and Quistis?" Irvine says. "I knew it, you dirty dog! Do you know how many pissed off Trepies there are going to be when they hear you two are hooking up?"

"It's not like that," Zell says.

"There's only one reason a guy sneaks out of a girl's room at this hour, man," Irvine says. "So how was it?"

"Shut the hell up," Zell says. "It's not what you think."

"Then why do you smell like sex?"

Zell makes a show of sniffing the air around Irvine and frowns in exaggerated disgust.

"Naw, that's you," Zell says and walks away.

He's embarrassed and ashamed and he wonders if he's defective.  

Ma tells him he just hasn't met the right girl yet. Maybe she's right. Then again, maybe not.

* * *

 

Seifer didn't expect Zell to come back, but he showed up two weeks later, just as hostile as the first time.

Why Zell would travel so far to to yell and curse at Seifer for half an hour was a mystery. Why he bothered, Seifer didn't know, but it ended the same way it did the first time – with Zell getting dragged from the room by guards for being too loud and vulgar.

Two weeks later, Zell was there again and it was the same thing – ranting, cursing, yelling – but this time, he managed to make it to the end of the visit without getting kicked out. And this time, it left Seifer feeling confused. And confused was sort of an emotion. Not a powerful one, but it was something.

Confusion turned to curiosity when Zell kept coming back, less and less hostile each visit. He showed up every two weeks, and Seifer desperately wanted to know why. There had to be some other reason for it.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Seifer asked. "Again."

"I have questions."

"You say that every time, but you never fucking ask any. So why the hell are you here?"

"Why did you do it?" Zell asked. "Why did you go with her?"

"Read a newspaper some time, Dincht. They printed a pretty accurate version of my confession," Seifer said. "Or so I hear."

"I want to hear it from you. Tell me why."

" _Matron_ , that's why," Seifer said.

"You thought you were helping Matron?"

"In the beginning. Then that bitch got a hold of me, and it was too late."

"That's it?"

"What else is there? It's not going to change anything," Seifer said.

Zell's blue eyes searched Seifer's face before he spoke again.

"I want to understand."

"What is there to understand, shithead? How dense are you that you can't put two and two together and figure it out on your own?"

"Fuck you, man."

"Fuck you, too," Seifer said. "Do yourself a favor and stop wasting your time. And mine."

"Right. Your time is sooo valuable," Zell said and rolled his eyes. "What exactly would you be doing right now if I wasn't here? Sitting in a cell all by yourself? I don't see a line of people waiting to visit you."

That comment hurt because it was true. Matron visited a few times and Quistis, too, but he had a feeling Quistis wouldn't be back. They didn't really have anything to say to each other. She just sat on the other side of the glass looking sad and forlorn and like he was her greatest failure, and he couldn't stand being looked at like that.

"None of your business what I do," Seifer said.

Zell's snide laugh made Seifer want to punch him. Ironic that the only time he felt anything at all was when this dipshit showed up to provoke him. Otherwise, Seifer lived in a state of numbness as hours and days passed, each the same as the last.

The buzzer rang, signaling their time was up.

"See you next time," Zell threatened with an unholy grin.

Seifer gave him a one finger salute, got up and didn't bother to look back.

* * *

 

Zell takes the late train into Deling City and decides to go to the bar when he arrives. He orders his drink and the man beside him starts a friendly conversation. Zell's appreciative when they guy buys the next round and they toast the end of Deling's rule, democracy and some hockey team Zell doesn't care about.

He's so busy telling war stories, he doesn't notice the man has moved closer until a hand settles on his thigh and glides slowly upward toward his groin. An excited thrill shoots through him, followed by a terror so powerful, he reacts to the man's touch by punching him in the face. His fist splits the man's lip wide open and the man retaliates and bashes Zell in the head with his beer glass. Twice.

When he wakes up, he's in his room at the hotel. His eye is swollen shut and there's a still bleeding cut on his chin that will probably leave a scar. He doesn't remember how he got here, but he's alone and his head feels like it's swollen twice it's normal size. He gets up, drinks a glass of water and heals his wounds with a potion.

The swelling around his eye goes down, but it's ringed in a dark bruise. The cut on his chin leaves a pink, puckered scar.

It's the first thing Seifer notices when Zell walks into the visiting room.

"What the hell happened to you?" Seifer asks.

"Bar fight," Zell says, not wishing to discuss it. "Okay, so start at the beginning. With Matron."

"No, no, no, I want to talk about this bar fight," Seifer says, genuinely interested. "I want details."

"Why the fuck do you care?"

His head hurts and at the rate they're going, it's going to take years for Seifer to tell his side of the story. He really wants to know the truth. Maybe something in the story will help explain why Rinoa didn't make it back when all the rest of them did.

"You're the last person I'd expect to get into a bar brawl unless I was there," Seifer says. "Hell, I can't even picture you _in_ a bar."

"I go to bars."

He's indignant now, and Seifer's wasting time.

"Come on, I sat through all your stupid questions and your pathetic insults. It's my turn to ask shit," Seifer said. "Did you start it?"

"No. Yes," he says. He can't remember much after being clocked with the beer glass. "Maybe."

Seifer laughs as if he genuinely agrees with this answer. Zell's patience is wearing thin, but if he's to make any progress here, he knows he's going to have to endure letting Seifer think he has the upper hand from time to time. It's the only way to get him to talk.

"Start from the beginning," Seifer says.

"Not much to tell. Guy made a move on me so I punched him."

He's ashamed of himself for the way he reacted. He remembers how the stranger's touch excited him. But he will never admit that. Not to Seifer. Not to anyone. Ever.

Seifer's eyebrow shoots up with interest.

"You mean he hit on you?"

"More like groped me."

Seifer's laugh is loud and hearty and Zell kind of likes the sound of it, even though he hates the man it's coming from. It's a warm baritone rumble in his ear, and the kind of laugh Zell has always wished he had himself.

"And?"

"I hit him, he hit me with a beer glass. The end," Zell said. "Can we get back to you now?"

"No," Seifer says. "Where did he grope?"

"Thigh," Zell says. "Back to you now."

"Did you like it, Dincht? Did it turn you on?"

"I liked knocking the shit out of him," Zell says coldly, and he hopes Seifer can't see the blush that warms his cheeks. "Tell me about Matron."

"Boy, you're fucking persistent, aren't you?"

But they're out of time now, and Zell will have to wait.

* * *

 

For Squall's twentieth birthday, Irvine has arranged a surprise. With Zell's assistance, Irvine forcibly removes Squall from his office and drags him to the train station. For his part, Squall doesn't put up much of a fight, but he doesn't seem terribly excited about it either.

It's supposed to be a guy's weekend out in Deling City, but for some reason, Selphie joins them and Irvine doesn't seem to mind at all. Zell figures, they'll bar hop, get smashed and stumble back to the hotel in time to see the sun come up, but instead, Irvine takes them to a strip club. Zell feigns enthusiasm but Squall makes no secret of his lack of interest in the place. Squall stares into his drink and refuses to look at the topless women or pay attention to Irvine's chiding or hoots of appreciation at all the nudity around them.

Selphie is enjoying herself, though. She's talked to just about every girl in the place, befriending them, and then cheering them on as they dance on the stage under pink and red lights to music that's at least as old as Zell is. She asks Irvine to buy her a lap dance, and he obliges with a grin and watches with a lusty enthusiasm that Zell finds disturbing.

Then it's Squall's turn, and Squall is mortified. He endures it but keeps his eyes focused on the wall behind the stage and then downs his drink when it's over. Then he orders another.

Zell is similarly mortified as Irvine shells out more Gil and buys Zell what will be his first and very last lap dance. Once again, he can't seem to find it in himself to be excited about this. The girl in his lap is very pretty, but the only admiration he feels for her is the aesthetic kind. She's pretty, and nothing more.

The combination of alcohol and confusion makes him feel like crying. Fortunately, the dance is over quickly and he's able to regain some of his composure before he loses it. He buys Squall a birthday shot and watches Irvine and Selphie across the room. Selphie is dancing with one of the girls, and Irvine is enjoying every second of it.

"I hate this," Squall says.

"Think they'd notice if we left?"

"Doubtful," Squall says as he eyes the shenanigans on the other side of the room. "Wanna go find another bar?"

"Hell, yes," Zell says.

They wind up in a seedy place near the train station. It's small and dirty and the patrons are surly, but it suits Zell much better. Squall relaxes a little, but he's also approaching an uncommon and out of character level of intoxication. They don't say much for a while, though Zell buys him another drink and toasts his birthday.

"The hell did you get your face tattooed for, Dincht?" Squall asks after a while.

"I dunno," Zell admits. "Something I thought looked cool when I was sixteen."

"You regret it?"

"Naw," Zell says. "Keeps away the riff-raff."

Squall snorts into his drink and eyes the lines on Zell's face with a bit of disdain at what some have told Zell almost looks like a mockery of the markings of a Sorceress. He doesn't care what they think. He liked it when he was sixteen, and he likes it now.

"I dare you to get one," Zell says, offering a challenge.

"On my face? No way."

"Anywhere."

Squall stares at him and then shrugs.

It's a testament of how drunk Squall actually is that he agrees. After that, everything is a drunken blur and Zell wakes up on the bathroom floor of his hotel room, unsure of how he got there or why he's passed out on the floor.

There's a new sunburst tattoo on his bicep that he doesn't remember getting. He decides it's not horrible – not something he would have chosen sober, but at least it wasn't something embarrassing.

He makes his way back to the room and finds Squall shirtless and sprawled face down on the bed. On his back is an artsy tattoo of Griever. In spite of Squall's drunkenness, he has picked the perfect tattoo for himself.

Then, Zell finds himself admiring Squall.

Strong shoulders and back, narrow waist, lean, muscular arms.

He flees the room and justifies his admiration by telling himself it's just one soldier appreciating the work it takes to be in that kind of shape. Nothing more.

* * *

 

"Matron. Tell me about Matron," Zell insisted and Seifer scowled back at him.

"What's the point of all this?

"I told you. I want to understand."

"There's nothing to understand, stupid," Seifer said. "I did everything they said I did."

There was no hostility in Zell anymore, just a tired sort of resignation like he was about to give up.

If Zell gave up, he wouldn't come back. Seifer didn't know why that was a big deal to him. The only time he felt anything at all was when this idiot sat across from him, and Seifer was tired of spending his days walking around a shell of a person.

"I helped her because I trusted her," Seifer said after a pause. "She was our Matron. Our mother."

Zell was clearly surprised Seifer volunteered this information.

"You knew who she was?" Zell asked, "Like right away?"

"I never forgot her, unlike the rest of you," Seifer said.

"How? The GF's wiped all that old stuff out of our heads?"

Seifer shrugged. "I didn't junction as much as the rest of you. I didn't need to."

"Cocky prick," Zell muttered under his breath.

"Listen, shithead, I'm not saying that because I'm proud of it," Seifer fired back. "I'm saying it because it's true. I didn't junction as often or for as long. So go fuck yourself if you think I'm saying it to get a rise out of you."

Zell's eyes flashed with anger but he leaned back in his chair and nodded slowly.

"Okay, so you remembered her. What happened next?"

Seifer rubbed his eyes, thinking that if he was going to tell this tale, he might as well do it thoroughly.

"You know, Matron was the only adult to ever treat me like I wasn't just some little asshole with anger issues?" Seifer asked. "Cid pretty much ignored me once we got to Garden and only spoke to me when I crossed some line or something and he had to pretend to be a headmaster. They labeled me a problem child from the beginning. No one gave me a chance, except for her."

A white-hot kind anger flared up inside Seifer's chest, and it took him by total surprise. He wanted to bash Zell's head against the glass for looking at him that way. He didn't want pity. He didn't want sympathy.

"Don't look at me like that," Seifer said. "You don't get to feel bad for me."

"Too bad, because I do," Zell said. "And you don't get to tell me how I should feel."

"Fuck you."

"Fuck _you_ ," Zell said. "Go on. Keep talking."

"What, are you writing a fucking book?" Seifer asked bitterly. "I tell you all my secrets and you make a billion Gil?"

Zell shook his head and searched Seifer's face, like he was going to find the answers written across his forehead.

"Go on," Zell said. "Please."

But once again, they were out of time, and for the first time, it felt like a half hour wasn't nearly long enough.


	2. Chapter 2

It took Seifer nearly three years to tell the whole story from start to finish. He could have condensed it into just a handful of visits. There really wasn't that much to tell.

Matron was too sick to travel and Quistis stopped coming a long time ago. There was only Zell now, and he would stop showing up once he got his answers.

So Seifer drew it out, and sometimes he didn't talk about it at all. He complained about the prison food, the other prisoners, the guards, anything to delay the inevitable. When he finally reached then end, Zell expected more, something else, some earth shattering revelation that would make sense and wrap it all up in a pretty little bow.

It wasn't so simple. Nothing was ever that easy, and Zell should have known better.

"So that's it?"

"What did you expect?"

"I don't know. Something less anticlimactic."

"That's a big word for such a little man."

"Dick."

"You wish."

"So, you didn't see Rinoa?"

"Why the fuck would I have seen her?" Seifer asked. "Did _you_ see her while you were wandering around in that hell?"

"No, but I thought maybe... Never mind. I just really thought you knew something the rest of us didn't."

"Yeah, well, I don't know shit," Seifer said. He paused and looked down at his hands. "Sucks what happened."

Seifer was responsible for Rinoa's involvement in the first place. It was because of him, and his stupid choices Rinoa got so deeply involved. He was the reason she became a Sorceress, and probably why she disappeared, too.

All he wanted was to impress her. Now he was a war criminal, and she was missing, maybe forever.

"Her father's having her declared legally dead," Zell said. "Memorial's next week."

"Well, that sounds like a whole bunch of not fun. How's Leonhart taking it?"

"I can't really tell," Zell said. "He's different."

"He was always different."

"Naw, I mean, remember what he was like? Didn't talk to anyone unless he had to?"

"Yeah. I remember"

"Now it's more like, he's a robot that's programmed to respond appropriately to key phrases."

That struck Seifer funny, but Zell's glare shut his laughter down quick.

"I can't even tell if he cares anymore," Zell said. "Anyway. I don't wanna go. Feels like giving up."

"If she's not back by now, she's not coming back," Seifer said. "Best to let that shit go."

* * *

 

Zell sits on the train, in the SeeD compartment with the rest, but nobody says much. That's fine with him. The memories hurt, and even though there's no body and no evidence Rinoa is dead, this feels like the real thing. He would rather stay home and do his own thing, but instead he's stuck on this train with four other people who feel as lousy as he does.

So Zell does the logical thing – he busts out a bottle of whiskey and drinks. By the time they get to Deling City, they're all shitfaced, even Quistis. Squall can barely walk a straight line, and he hides behind a pair of sunglasses so that no once can see his bloodshot eyes. Everyone can tell he's wasted anyway.

They're so drunk, they take the wrong bus and end up in the shopping district, where Zell shells out for a fresh bottle and keeps drinking, even after the bus driver threatens to throw them off.

The memorial is a joke. Zell's never seen a more thorough display of, _"Look at me! Look at me!"_ since Seifer Almasy paraded around Garden in a trench coat emblazoned with huge red crosses on the sleeves. It doesn't even feel like a memorial. It's just a show for Caraway, and he spends the whole time shaking hands and chatting up various politicians and discussing things that have no place at his daughter's final send-off.

When Laguna Loire shows up, Squall retreats to a bench in the back, as far away from everyone as he can get. Laguna tries to talk to him, but Squall very loudly, and very clearly tells him to _fuck off_. Selphie and Irvine are in the midst of an argument in another corner, Hyne knows or cares what about. They're always fighting these days and Zell barely pays attention when they argue in public anymore. Quistis stares mournfully at Squall from the corner of her eye and Zell helps himself to the table of caviar covered crackers and chocobo pate, even though he's not hungry.

Eventually, he wanders over to Squall and they sit there drinking in silence while they wait for the ceremony to start.

The memorial is nice, in spite of the grandeur. Caraway reveals a huge statue of a weeing angel, and it's surrounded by a bed of sky-blue flowers. A pastor gives a prayer and a dedication, but Quistis is the only one of their group to stand up and speak. She can hardly get the words out. She's drunk and emotional, and it's so pathetic, Zell steps in and saves her.

Just when he thinks the whole thing couldn't be worse, Caraway and Squall get into a tense conversation that escalates into a series of loud accusations from Caraway. Squall responds with fists and Caraway throws a punch of his own. The two grapple on the back lawn until Caraway's security breaks up the fight. Caraway has a black eye, Squall a bloody nose.

Meanwhile, Irvine chews out a couple of reporters attempting to film the scene through the ivy covered fence. He parades back and forth in front of them, middle finger extended and uses his hat to shield the camera's view.

They don't even bother with a hotel that night. The five of them get back on the train and go home. Everyone passes out except Squall and Zell, who sit there in silence and continue to drink.

* * *

 

Seifer's tale was told and he expected there would be no visitors for him anymore. He tried to make peace with that. He almost convinced himself he didn't want Dincht to come back, but when Seifer's name was called for visitation following breakfast one Saturday morning, he was as confused as he was relieved.

Zell waited on the other side of the glass, just as he did every other Saturday, but this time he brought something with him. As Seifer sat down, he saw they were paperback books, one of the only things visitors were allowed to bring inmates.

"What the fuck are those?"

"What do they look like?" Zell said.

"Why did you bring them?"

"I figured you could use a little mental stimulation," Zell said. "You _do_  know how to read, right? You know, considering I never saw you crack a book the entire time we were classmates."

Seifer would never admit it, but he was grateful. The prison offered precious little in the way of reading material, though he sometimes traded books he bought at the canteen with other inmates. There wasn't much to do besides work and play cards, and a little bit of escape was a welcome reprieve from the monotony.

"Real funny, shithead," Seifer said. "Got anything interesting in that stack?"

"They wouldn't let me bring in the titty mags, but," Zell said and held up a romance novel with a scantily clad woman and a hulking, muscular man on the cover, "this one might get your rocks off. Sales girl said it's pretty dirty. Full of heaving bosoms and shit."

Seifer burst out laughing.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Seifer asked. "Are you actively trying to get my ass kicked?"

"Hey, don't knock it!"

"Oh, I probably will anyway," Seifer said with a grin. "What else you got?"

"Some sci-fi thing about aliens or clones or something, a horror story about clowns, and a murder mystery," Zell said as he sorted through the titles.

Seifer stared at Zell through the glass. For the life of him, Seifer couldn't sort out why Zell was still showing up. It made some sense that Zell wanted Seifer's side of the story, but now that there was nothing more to say, there was no reason for Zell to be here. And there was no reason for him to be this _nice_.

"Why the hell do you keep showing up here?"

"Anyone else visiting you these days?" Zell asked shrewdly.

"You're the only one stupid enough to come here. You know that, right?"

"Well, I guess it's because, if it were me in there, I'd want someone to come see me," Zell said. "Anyone is better than no one at all."

"That's so freaking sweet, I think I'm going to vomit."

"Yeah? Go ahead," Zell said. "If you don't want me here, all you have to do is tell them you don't want to see me."

Seifer considered it. He almost told them to take Dincht off the visitor's list so he'd never have to see him again, but he couldn't do it. Zell was right. Someone was better than no one.

Zell became Seifer's link to the outside. He was Seifer's confessional, whether just to complain about how the guards were worse than the prisoners, or to recount his latest nightmare, or to bitch about the food. He didn't know what drove Zell to show up, or why he cared, but it mattered.

It mattered a lot.

* * *

 

Zell goes to Irvine for advice about girls and dating. He doesn't know what he's doing wrong, but he's starting to get a reputation, and it's not a good one. There's a deep suspicion in him that the problem isn't the girls he picks at all, but something wrong with him instead.

Irvine thinks it's funny as hell and teases Zell for weeks afterwards until Zell finally gets pissed off and knocks him out cold in the hallway.

Zell gets a reprimand, a demotion, and a three week deployment to kill monsters in northern Trabia, where it's cold as fuck and he's stuck with a bunch of fresh-from-the-field-exam rank 6 SeeDs. They're cocky and irritating and they know he's there as punishment.

But half of Garden saw him take Kinneas out with a single punch, so they stay out of his way and try not to set him off, which leaves him with too much time to think.

He thinks about Seifer a lot, and wonders why the hell he keeps going to see him. It's true that if he were in Seifer's shoes, he would want someone to come see him. It wouldn't really matter who, but he can't put his finger on why he should care. It's not like Seifer was ever his friend, yet something drives him to get on that train every other weekend and go.

Now that Seifer's through with his story, their conversations aren't about anything special. Sometimes they're friendly, but a lot more often, Seifer is full of either hostility or regret. Sometimes both.

When Zell returns from Trabia, he teaches a hand-to-hand recertification class for active duty SeeDs, as he's done every year since the war.

He shows 25 SeeDs how to kill with their bare hands and for the first time, Zell thinks about what that means. He thinks about how _easy_ it is for him to take a life, when others need a blade or a firearm or some other weapon.

It's both remarkable and scary.

After the first class is over and the students have filed out of the room, Zell stares at his hands for a long time. All he can see is the blood on them.

Curious, he checks his personnel stats on the terminal in the library to see how many deaths he is responsible for by Garden's estimate. The number on the screen is staggering. It's supposed to be a bragging right, a measure of success but it makes Zell feel like a monster.

He goes to another wedding, this time Squall's, and once again, Zell is the best man. Zell sees right through Squall's fake smile, and he knows without being told, Squall isn't marrying for love but because he's expected to. He's less a soldier these days and more a politician, whether he likes it or not, and there's no such thing as a successful unmarried political figure. This match is no business arrangement – Liz Kadowaki is a school teacher – but it's obvious to Zell that Squall doesn't love her.

Zell's date is a girl from town. She's cute and fun and reminds him a little of Rinoa. They dance and laugh and have a hot dog eating contest, which she wins. Zell's impressed and later he kisses her on the dance floor with everyone watching. Later, after the reception is over, he takes her up to his room and he tells himself he's going to go through with it, because any girl that can eat more hot dogs than he can is the girl of his dreams.

But he can't. She's too drunk to not be taking advantage, and he just can't find it in himself to want her that way.

Matron passes away that fall, from the cancer she fought so hard to survive. Zell tries to get the prison to let Seifer attend the funeral, but they deem him a flight risk and won't let him go. Zell doesn't think this is fair, since Edea is the only mother Seifer ever really knew and he deserves to say his goodbyes like the others. But he doesn't get that chance, and it's something that Seifer wanted very badly, though he doesn't say it.

"The service was nice," Zell says lamely. "Selphie did a good job planning it."

"Yeah."

Seifer's eyes are far away and glassy.

"My lawyer tells me Matron left me the orphanage and a trust fund in the will," Seifer says. "There was a letter, too..."

"A letter?" Zell asks,curious. "What did it say?"

"I haven't been able to make myself read it yet."

Seifer has nothing else to say on the subject and Zell struggles to find words. Finally, he says, "I put some money in your canteen, in case you need anything."

"I don't need your fuckin' charity, Dincht."

There's no hostility, just a sad resignation that causes Zell's heart to crack in two.

"It's not charity, you idiot," Zell says. "Get over yourself."

"Then what is it?"

"A peace offering."

* * *

 

Fujin was sentenced to an extra ten years after she got into a fight with another inmate over a pudding cup. Seifer couldn't believe she'd be so fucking stupid. She was six weeks away from being released. In his last letter, he told her to lay low and stay out of trouble, but her temper got the best of her and she stabbed both the inmate and a guard with a filed down spoon.

Seifer wrote her a scathing diatribe about what an idiot she was, but he didn't send it. Worse news came two months later when Zell told him Raijin was killed in a car accident two weeks after his release from prison. The idiot got drunk and wrapped his car around a tree going eighty.

"They say he died instantly," Zell said. "At least he didn't suffer."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Seifer snapped. "Stupid fucking _ridiculous_ way to die."

"I'm sorry," Zell said. "I know he was a good friend of yours."

"Idiot should have known better," Seifer said as he bit back tears. "Serves him right for being so fucking stupid!"

"I'm trying to get the prison to let you go to the funeral, but..."

"Yeah. Don't bother. They won't."

"Still gonna try."

Seifer thought about the old days, when the three of them were still cadets. They would sneak out to the cemetery and drink contraband hooch and make grand, outrageous and unrealistic plans for the future.

It was some vile concoction Raijin made in his bathroom from a mixture of various fruit, sugar and yeast, brewed in milk jugs pilfered from the cafeteria. Sometimes, it wasn't terrible, but sometimes, Raijin's home brews were wretched. The banana wine tasted like compost, and all three of them barfed behind the MIA memorial after one drink.

The time Raijin tried to ferment oranges was a cataclysmic failure that earned Raijin a lengthy stay in the disciplinary room after the container exploded with a bang loud enough to rattle the windows, and it spewed a foul substance that smelled like unwashed feet all over Raijin's room. Convinced he was being shot at in his sleep, Raijin went on a rampage, and tore the door off his closet, savaged the bathroom and woke Seifer at three in the morning, screaming about assassins. His room smelled like dirty feet forever after.

The memory made Seifer smile, but it also brought a tear to his eye. Raijin wasn't the smartest guy in the world, but he was one of the most loyal friends Seifer ever had. Seifer couldn't wrap his head around the idea that Raijin no longer existed.

"What the hell was he thinking?"

Zell shrugged, sympathy in his eyes. "I don't know."

"He _wasn't_ thinking, that's what," Seifer said. "That was always his problem. _Not_ thinking. Fuj and I always had to do the thinking for him. That's why the idiot never made SeeD. All ability and no fucking brains."

His eyes burned with tears. All along, he had this image in his head, of the three of them reuniting after his release. They'd pick up where they left off, maybe take up residence at the orphanage. Raijin could help him remodel or rebuild the place, and Fujin could help him figure out what to do next.

That wasn't going to happen. Fujin would still have four years to go by the time Seifer got out. And Raijin...

Seifer was so pissed at both of them, he could barely see straight.

"Fuck, man," Seifer said. "Damn them both. Fucking idiots."

"I'm really sorry," Zell said softly.

Zell's sincerity caused the tears in Seifer's eyes to overflow. He pressed a hand to his face to hide it, and he might have gotten away with it, except a sharp, ugly sob followed and Seifer was overpowered by his own grief.

"Are you crying?"

"Shut the fuck up."

"It's okay, I just didn't know you could."

He said it like he really believed Seifer incapable of ever shedding a tear, even for a fallen friend.

* * *

 

Zell is on a joint mission with Trabia Garden. They're stationed in Esthar to eliminate a resistance faction camped out somewhere in the desert. It's too damn hot, and the work is tedious and miserable when there's actually something to do.

He befriends a Trabian SeeD about his age who survived the bombing of Trabia Garden. The guy is full of interesting tales about what it was like to live through it, and they swap stories about their experiences on the job and laugh about some of the more ridiculous things they've been asked to do on contract.

Zell thinks of Seifer and wonders how far gone he was when he gave the order to fire missiles at a bunch of kids. He never mentions Seifer to the Trabian, but the man is on his mind a lot.

They play cards to pass the time and drink till they can't see straight when they're off duty. One night, after too many shots, the Trabaian SeeD leans over and kisses Zell on the lips.

Zell is too drunk to be afraid or pissed off and he lets it happen because it triggers something in him he thought was broken. He finally feels something, and Zell is willing to find out where this leads and he follows the Trabian back to his room without hesitation.

He doesn't remember ever feeling real desire when someone kissed him before. Not like this, and he desperately wants to feel something besides indifference when someone touches him. Darkness covers the blush on his cheeks and alcohol dulls his shame, and he surrenders to pure sensation as hands and lips and stubble brush against his bare skin.

In the morning, he wakes up naked in the Trabian's bed with a headache the size of Esthar and the sense he's somehow fucked up. He's more confused than ashamed, and he can't deny he liked it, but he gets up and leaves without a word and avoids the Trabian for the remainder of the mission.

When he returns to Balamb, he calls up the girl he took to Squall's wedding and starts seeing her in earnest. On their fourth date, she takes him home to her flat and all Zell can think about is that encounter with the Trabian in Esthar.

Deep down, he knows they're doomed, that she will never be what he wants, no matter how great a person she is, but he keeps dating her, in hopes of proving himself wrong, hoping his mind will change, and winds up feeling more and more like a fraud.

Another mission sees him sent to Deling City, where he snaps a man's neck with such cold efficiency, he gets sick afterward.

It bothers him so much, he gets drunk in his hotel room all by himself while he stares at his hands and thinks about how many lives they've taken over the years.

He doesn't want to do this anymore. Killing has taken it's toll on him and he knows his days as a SeeD are now numbered. Either he will walk away from it for good or the job will kill him.

When the mission ends, Zell doesn't take the train back to Balamb with the others. He gets a hotel room on the edge of the city and for the next two days maintains a steady flow of alcohol into his bloodstream. He drinks in his room and he drinks at the bar down the street, and there's an itch that needs scratching that not even booze can kill.

He picks up a tall blonde man at the bar and takes him back to his hotel room. He lets the man fuck him against the wall beside the closet door, then again in the shower, and it satisfies his physical needs, but it isn't what Zell is looking for.

Once the man is gone, Zell drinks himself into a stupor with the lights off. He hates himself for doing this, for the drinking and the one night stand, but he goes out and does it again the next night, in the hopes that this time, he won't want it, but he does.

In the darkness of his room, he finally admits to himself that he's gay, and that's not the part that bothers him. It's a relief to acknowledge what he's suspected for years, a name he can give this thing that's gnawed at him him since he was a kid.

It's that there's no real satisfaction in fucking strangers or even acquaintances. Zell wants more than that. He needs more than a temporary fix.

He doesn't bother to get dressed in the morning. He orders another bottle from room service, and keeps drinking. This time, he doesn't go out.

Tomorrow is his twenty-fifth birthday, and it's visiting day at D-District.

* * *

 

Seifer could tell right away, Dincht was drunk.

The man looked like hell, eyes bloodshot and ringed in dark circles as though he hadn't slept in a week. He stumbled into the booth and plopped down, fumbling for the phone with one hand as he toyed with his long, un-styled bangs with the other.

"It's my twenty-fifth birthday, man," Zell slurred. "And I'm sitting here in a prison talking to your dumb ass. What the fuck is wrong with me?"

"I didn't force you to come."

"Why do I even bother?" he murmured. "Why the fuck do I care?"

"You tell me, shithead," Seifer said. "I've been trying to figure that out for years."

"I'm so tired of living a lie," Zell said out of the blue. "All I see when I look in the mirror is a guy who's too much of a chicken shit to admit who he really is. You're not the only one who lives with guilt, Almasy. I kill _things_ and _people_ for a living. I'm no fucking better than you are, yet you're the one sitting behind glass right now. How's that for irony, huh?"

Seifer was so startled by Zell's bitterness, he didn't know how to respond. He stared at Zell through the glass and tried to figure out where this was coming from. Zell's face was full of rage and sadness and guilt, and for the first time, Seifer understood there was a lot more to Zell than he thought.

They sat like that for nearly a full minute, Zell staring back at him with hard, unflinching blue eyes.

Then, Zell hung up the phone and walked out. Seifer sat there for a minute and wondered what the hell just happened. Zell's words stuck with him. He didn't understand what they meant, but they stuck with him.

There was an air of finality about Zell's exit, like he was walking away for good. It was pathetic that Seifer had come to count on those visits so much, and he felt a miserable sort of panic at the thought that Zell wasn't coming back. The stupid chicken-head was now the closest thing Seifer had to a friend. If he didn't show up anymore, Seifer didn't have anyone left who cared.

For two weeks, Seifer worried. He started a dozen or so letters that he crumpled and threw away in exasperation and shame. What was there to say, anyway? Seifer wasn't going to beg, but the closer he got to visiting day, the more fearful he became that his name wouldn't be called.

When it was, Seifer was sickened by how much of a relief it was. How fucked up was it that the only enjoyment he got at all were Zell's visits?

"You wanna explain what you were talking about last time?" Seifer asked, curiosity genuine.

Zell put a hand to his forehead and stared down at the desk. His hair was un-styled again and long blonde bangs swept down over his forehead, almost to the tip of his nose. His posture was defeated, and he refused to look Seifer in the eye for the first time in almost seven years.

"Let's just say I'm figuring some shit out."

"Shit like what?"

"I don't feel like talking about it."

"So, I'm supposed to lay all my crap out on the table, but you're allowed to keep it to yourself?" Seifer asked. "I don't think so."

"What do you care?" Zell asked without enthusiasm.

"I don't, but you're here, so open your fucking mouth and say it, or leave."

Seifer thought Zell was going to walk out again, but he stared at the desk, fingers idly toying with the phone cord.

"Dincht, you're not doing yourself any favors just sitting there."

"I can't say it out loud."

"What, are you trying to tell me you're gay or something?" Seifer said flippantly. "I already knew that."

Zell dropped the phone onto the desk and pressed a hand over his eyes and started to sob. It took Seifer a second to realize that was _exactly_ what he was trying to say and Seifer felt like an absolute shithead for saying it the way he did.

He knocked on the glass between them and yelled at Zell to pick the phone back up. Zell kept his eyes covered with his hand, but he held the ear piece loosely against his ear.

"Stop bawling," Seifer said. "It's not worth crying over."

He heard Zell's harsh sniffle on the other end, but he didn't respond.

"Look, man, my take on attraction is this: You want what you want and you like what you like, and fuck everyone else and their opinions."

"I've never told anybody," Zell said.

"Is that supposed to make me feel special?" Seifer asked. "What's the matter? Don't trust your friends enough to be honest with them? You gotta tell me instead? That's fucking pathetic, Dincht."

Seifer was being snide on purpose. He wanted to get a rise out of the martial artist, wanted him to do something besides sit there and cry about it.

"I fucking hate you, Almasy."

"Yeah? I'm not your biggest fan either."

Zell laughed, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

"Why the hell are you telling me this, anyway?" Seifer asked.

"Because you asked."

He had a point. It wasn't as though Seifer cared one way or the other, but at the same time, it wasn't like he _didn't_ care, either. The guy was going through stuff, apparently all by himself and unable to talk to the people who were supposed to be his real friends.

Why he trusted Seifer with this was unclear, given their history. Yet Zell was here, and Seifer couldn't find it in himself be a dick about it. Not when Zell was the only person to show any kind of sympathy when Raijin died. Not when he made sure to put money in Seifer's canteen, whether Seifer wanted him to or not.

"I don't even know what I'm supposed to do about it," Zell said. "It's not even about sex."

"Everything is about sex," Seifer disagreed. "If you think otherwise, you're just foolin' yourself." 

"You're such an asshole," Zell said.

"Yeah, but for some reason, you keep coming back, Dincht," Seifer said with a grin. "I'm startin' to think maybe you _want_ me."

"Oh, geez," Zell said. "You're so damn cocky. What makes you think you're even my type?"

Seifer chuckled, but he saw a whole world of possibility open up. He shut it down as quick as it flared up, and he could almost hear his teenage self in the back of his mind, laughing his ass off.

"Because I'm everyone's type."

Zell snorted, but he smiled and shook his head at Seifer's false egotism.

"Quit fucking with me," Zell said. "This is weird enough as it is."

"Who says I'm fucking with you?"

Zell's stare was hard to read.

"Knock it off. Shit's not funny and I'm not in the mood."

Seifer figured his own questionable sexuality was obvious. Hell, even Squall knew, and Squall was pretty much oblivious to other people's personal business.

"Geez, Dincht. Could you be more dense?" Seifer said. "Sex is sex, my friend. If it feels good, who cares?"

Seifer laughed at Zell's bewilderment, and once he started, it was hard to stop.

"Are we friends now?"

"Fuck no," Seifer said. "You hate me, remember?"

That earned Seifer a small smile.

"Is it... just a prison thing?" Zell asked.

"It's an always thing," Seifer said with a shrug.

"You never struggled with that?" Zell asked. "At all?"

"Not really."

"How could you not?" Zell wondered.

"Do you think I've _ever_ cared what people think of me?" Seifer asked. "Why would I waste my time or energy trying to please other people if I can't change their opinion?"

Zell blinked at him.

"You changed mine."

That phrase hung in the air between them for half a minute, leaving Seifer unexpectedly humbled. He didn't know what to say.

"Yeah, well, I didn't do it on purpose."

Zell chewed his lip and tugged on his bangs.

"Can I ask you something?"

"What?"

"Have you ever been in love?"

Seifer lowered his eyes and stared at the desk. He could lie and say no. He could pretend to be the heartless badass, but there was no point.

"Rinoa was the closest I ever got."

And then their time was up.

Seifer watched Zell leave, a mixture of guilt and sympathy twisting in his gut as he returned to his cell. He lay down in his bunk as thoughts of Rinoa and Zell spun around inside his head.

Something changed between them that day, Seifer just wasn't sure what.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mildly Smut-ish content ahead.

Zell was in better spirits when he visited next. He arrived with a new stack books and Seifer was grateful for fresh distraction. Zell's selections were made at random from the bestseller rack at the train station, but that didn't lessen the importance of the offering.

"Bring a couple more of those stupid romance books next time," Seifer said. "They're a big hit around here. I can trade them for stuff."

"Yeah?" Zell asked with a grin. "Like what?"

Seifer showed Zell the fresh tattoo of Hyperion on his arm. It hurt like hell, and it cost him a few favors besides the book, but worth it.

"Nice," Zell said with approval. "So the lady smut's a hit?"

"Who would have thought," Seifer said.

"I'll bring you a whole stack next time," Zell promised.

Seifer sat back in his chair and watched the man across from him with curiosity.

"You know, you don't have to keep coming, Dincht. Why waste your time off like this?"

"Why not?" Zell said with a shrug.

"I don't get you."

"I don't get me, either," Zell said, enigmatic all of a sudden. "Are you complaining?"

"No, but you're the last person in the world who should give a damn."

"You're right."

The only time Zell wasn't forthcoming with information was when this subject came up. No matter how hard he tried, Seifer never got an answer.

"I've got some leave coming up," Zell said. "Thought maybe I could go out to the orphanage and take a look around, send you some pictures of what it looks like. So you'll know whether it's worth saving or not."

"Why would you do that?"

"I need a getaway," Zell said. "Stuffs changing at Garden now that Cid's about to retire. Not in a good way, either."

"Thinking about quitting?"

"Every single day."

"That bad?"

"They brought on all these investors and they're making a bunch of changes that don't make sense," Zell said. "They don't know the first thing about what we do and they're already trying to cut the budget for meals and they wanna use this place as a template."

"Fuck," Seifer said sympathetically. "Food here sucks."

"Yeah, they've got this idea about putting everyone on a strict 2000 calorie diet because it's more cost effective," Zell said. "Shit, if I eat less than 2500, I start losing weight fast. I'm already a little underweight as it is."

Seifer understood that. He'd lost weight in the years he'd been here due to the strict portion sizes. His frame and physique required more than the average, but at least Zell's monthly contribution to his canteen allowed him to buy extras and protein supplement to help him maintain.

"Bet Dr. K's having a meltdown," Seifer said.

"Yep," Zell said. "Says the prototype menu is all processed crap. Nothing fresh or healthy, just cheap garbage that can feed a lot of people."

An unrelated thought occurred to Seifer, something Zell had said and never explained.

"What did you mean a while back, when you said it was ironic that I was behind bars and you weren't?"

Zell looked at him shrewdly for a moment and glanced at the clock on the wall behind them, knowing that time was growing short.

"I've been on a hundred and two missions in seven years. Fifty-five of them involved killing multiple people. Do the math, Almasy."

"Shit," Seifer said.

"If you count the war..." Zell said. "I think about that a lot and I don't feel good about it."

Seifer was labeled a monster, a mass murderer and many other things for his part, and it was the reason he was behind bars now. Even if his estimate hit the low end of the scale, it still put Zell in the same neighborhood as Seifer.

That was hard to reconcile.

"Well, maybe I'll see you in hell after all, Dincht."

* * *

Zell takes the newly opened express train to Centra and rents a car to drive out to the orphanage. He's brought a tent, in case the place is uninhabitable, and when he gets there, he's glad for his foresight. The roof is caving in on one side, the front room is a pile of rubble, some of the walls are crumbling and the whole place is filled with debris and half rotten furniture.

He's sad to see it like this. It wasn't in great shape when he was a kid, but this is a crumbling ruin he's not sure is salvageable. He takes photos as promised, and spends the night camped out on the beach. There are no people here, no neighbors for at least five miles, no lights, no cars, no tourists fouling up the beach, just peace and quiet and the sound of the waves and the wind.

In the morning, Zell strips down to bare skin and takes a dip in the ocean. The water is cold but refreshing, and though the current is strong, Zell is a good swimmer. He paddles out to a flat rock below the lighthouse and climbs up on it, lies down and stares up at the sky.

Here, there's no pressure to do or be anything other than who he is, and Zell likes that. It's refreshing to be so alone, he envies Seifer. This beautiful beach and this solitude belong to him once he's free, and Zell would give anything to have a place like this for himself.

When he returns to Balamb he mails Seifer the photos and money for his canteen. On his next visit, he can tell the state of the place is worse than Seifer expected.

"Shame Cid let it go like that," he says.

The Kramer's poured all their money into building Garden. It was understandable they let maintenance go for a time, but Zell didn't understand why in the years that followed the war, they didn't put any work into it. Edea lived there until she passed, under a rotting roof as the walls crumbled around her.

And for Zell, that seems like the saddest part of all.

The Trabian SeeD transfers to Balamb later that year. Zell apologizes for acting stupid and running away in Esthar, and he takes the guy out for a beer. He's not surprised when they wind up in bed together, but it's the sort of drunken hook-up Zell wants to avoid. There's no emotion in it, it's not the kind of relationship Zell wants to be in, but they still meet up once a week or so at a bar downtown that isn't frequented by SeeDs. He likes the Trabian's company, but there's not a lot between them beyond the physical.

What Zell really wants is something solid and stable. He wants someone to come home to and to cook for and fall asleep with. Someone to help him find his lost keys and phone chargers and someone who will massage the knots from his muscles after a hard day. He wants to laugh and fight and cry and go skinny-dipping in the ocean at 2 AM. He wants to make love instead of fuck, to shack-up instead of hook-up, to build a future instead of taking it day by day.

It isn't a lot to ask, at least, Zell doesn't think so, but it also seems like such a tall order. If his ideal exists, he hasn't found him yet, and the older he gets, the harder it is to open up and let someone in.

Selphie tries to set him up with girls, and sometimes Zell gives in to shut her up, but there's no point in pretending. Eventually, he stops bringing dates to Garden events, and he stops faking an interest in dating altogether.

There are plenty of tourists all year round, but the dating pool is shallow and prospects for long-term romance are virtually non-existent. Sometimes, he thinks he should quit SeeD for good and move to Deling City, but it's hard to imagine being so far away from home, away from his friends and family in a place he doesn't know.

Balamb no longer feels like home, and he can't help but think he'll be moving on soon. It's a thing he feels in his guts, knowledge in his bones, and all he wants is somewhere and someone to call his own.

* * *

Seifer has one year left in prison. Sometimes, Zell's sure Seifer is the best friend he has, besides Quistis. They talk about everything. Important things and memories from childhood. They rant and talk about stupid things, and throw insults back and forth. Seifer's hostility fades and all the insults and teasing are tinged with good humor and sometimes flirtation. Zell pretends not to notice the latter. He knows Seifer's not serious.

Sometimes, Seifer is curiously introspective, and sometimes, it creeps Zell out.

"What do you want out of life, Dincht?" he asks one day. "Is SeeD all there is for you?"

Seifer asks as if he genuinely wants to know, but it isn't a question Zell has given much thought to. The life he's living isn't the one he wants, but he's not sure what there is for him outside of SeeD.

"I don't know," Zell says honestly. "I'd like to say I have it all figured out, but I really don't."

"Can't be a SeeD forever."

"I could always teach," Zell says. "I've been doing re-certifications for the last few years. Xu mentioned going full time. I'm considering it."

"That really what you want to do?"

"I'm pretty good at it," Zell says with a shrug.

"Is that what you want to do?" Seifer repeats.

"Better than retiring and fixing vehicles for a living."

"You're avoiding the question."

"Because I really don't know how to answer it," Zell says. "What about you? What do you want?"

Seifer shrugs and blinks at his palms.

"I don't know what I want either, but I know I don't want to have to look back and realize my best days are behind me," Seifer says after a moment. "I don't want to be one of those guys who peaked at 18 and spends the rest of his life talking about the shit he did as a kid."

Zell thinks about this and worries that it applies to him. He's accomplished nothing of significance since the age of seventeen. Every day since then has been a sort of day-in, day-out grind. Everything about his life lacks color and substance and he wonders if that's the way it's supposed to be or if there should be more to it.

He has a sinking feeling that maybe _his_ best days are behind him, and he'll be that old guy at the bar rambling on about his glory days, forty years on.

"Someday, your number will be up, Dincht," Seifer says. "What will you have to show for it? What are they going to put on your tombstone?"

His tone makes Zell's skin crawl, the intensity of his gaze almost zealous and his eyes are bright with something like anger. Zell wonders if he's actually talking about Zell or if this is about himself.

" _Here lies Chicken-Wuss_ ," Zell says, to lighten the mood. " _Choked to death on a hot dog._ "

Seifer stares at him for a second before he bursts into laughter. The strange intensity in Seifer's eyes fades into amusement.

"Fuck, I wish I could hate you," Seifer says. "I really do."

"So, you secretly like me," Zell teases.

"I tolerate you," Seifer concedes.

"Ditto," Zell says with a smile. "What are you going to do when you get out?"

He's been wondering this for a while.

Seifer shrugs. "Haven't really thought about it. Probably get drunk…"

"That's a given," Zell says. "I meant after that."

Seifer scratches his face, thoughtful.

"Probably go to Centra. Fix up the orphanage," Seifer says. "Or bulldoze it."

"I figured you'd go back to Balamb," Zell says without thinking. "At least for a while."

"Why the fuck would I do that?" Seifer snaps. "There's nothing for me there."

Zell wants to disagree, but he doesn't want to seem desperate for Seifer's company. Even though he's the one that's spent the last eight and a half years crossing an ocean to talk for thirty minutes at a time. If that isn't desperate, Zell doesn't know what is.

"I thought maybe you could get some work on a fishing boat or something," Zell says. "They're always looking for heavies that can haul stuff."

"Fuck that. I want something different."

"What do you mean by different?"

Seifer thinks about it for a minute.

"My own space, nobody fucking bothering me."

"So you want to be a hermit?"

"Something like that."

"You have a plan?"

"Not really," Seifer says with a shrug. "Edea left me a shitload of cash. More than enough to fix the place up and survive on until I figure it out."

"Well, if you want someone to give you a hand, I'm game," Zell says.

"I might take you up on that," Seifer says.

* * *

That last six months, Seifer thought about Zell a lot. More than made sense, really, but from time to time, he allowed himself a lusty fantasy or two about shoving Zell against a wall and doing unsavory things to him. If Zell was serious about helping him fix up the orphanage, there would be plenty of time alone to find out if the chicken-wuss was up for more, but Seifer didn't take his fantasies too seriously. He didn't really know what it was he wanted or expected from Zell once he was out, but Seifer owed him. For bothering to visit, for being Seifer's only friend, and for being the only person in almost nine years that cared to hear what he had to say.

Zell's last visit before Seifer's release felt different than any of the others. There was an air of finality about it, an edgy, heady anticipation that left Seifer wound tight enough to tear the doors off the place. Nine years was a long, long time, but time moved so slowly those last few weeks, Seifer was agitated and combative and itching for a fight he didn't want to pick.

Across from him, Zell was all smiles, but Seifer was too irritated to return it.

"Why do you still wear your hair like that?" Seifer asked crankily. "You look like a fucking cockatoo."

"I dunno," Zell said, reaching up to touch the tall spikes, "I tried not wearing it like this once and everyone freaked out. Especially Selphie."

"It's a wonder you haven't put someone's eye out with that shit."

Zell cocked an eyebrow at him, still grinning.

"Nervous about getting out?"

"No."

"Liar," Zell said.

If Seifer was perfectly honest with himself, which if it was in regards to Zell, it was tough to admit he gave a damn, he worried Zell would eventually fade out of his life once he was free. A few weekends at the orphanage, a few phone calls and then their friendship would fade and maybe there would be the odd letter for the first couple years, and then Seifer would be alone again.

Would he admit that? No.

"Fine. I'm nervous," Seifer said. "Happy?"

"It's okay to be nervous," Zell said. "I bet it's gonna be weird for a while, seeing the sky and stuff."

That was one of the things Seifer most looked forward to. Fresh air, sunshine, and a big open sky above. That and a bottle of booze, a good meal, and maybe Dincht in his bed…

Seifer shut that thought down, fast. He seriously needed to get laid, for real. Not a quickie hand-job while the guards weren't around, but actual sex. Once it was out of his system, he'd get over it.

"Things getting any better at Garden?" Seifer asked to distract himself.

"Worse," Zell said. "Cid's basically taken himself out of the equation. Doesn't even show up for board meetings anymore."

"That's because he's a fucking coward."

"It's not that," Zell said. "It's more like he gave up once Matron was gone. Like she took part of him with her, or something."

Seifer was never Edea's true Knight, though in the beginning he believed he was. He never even considered Cid's role in the whole thing, or what losing Edea might do to him.

Cid's cowardice looked more like a broken heart almost ten years down the road, and Seifer had little right to judge.

"Did you feel like that?" Zell asked. "After we killed Ultimecia?"

"I didn't feel anything when she died," he said. "Not even relief."

He let Zell digest that, but they were out of time.

"Next time I see you..." Seifer began, unsure of how to finish the sentence.

He hoped Zell would stick around once he was free, but he didn't want to count on it.

"See you on the outside, asshole."

"Yeah. See ya, shithead."

* * *

The day Seifer got out of prison, Zell was there waiting for him. Seifer didn't know why he was so surprised to see him after all this time, but he was.

Zell greeted him with a big, sunny grin as he stepped out of processing, and Zell nearly tackled him. He wrapped his arms around Seifer's middle and gave him the fierce, almost painful sort of buddy hug Raijin used to give. Seifer's eyes got misty, both because his suddenly missed Raijin, and because he it had been more than ten years since anyone touched him without ulterior motives.

Seifer didn't even know how badly he needed it until now. He hugged Zell back, dangerously emotional, really confused, and scared to death of what waited for him up on the surface. He let his chin rest against the top of Zell's head as he embraced Zell back. Zell half-crushed his ribs and giggled like an idiot. Seifer pulled back a second later, embarrassed, and went for the joke to cover it.

"Ahh! My eye!" Seifer teased and pressed the heel of his hand to his face.

Alarmed, Zell let him go, but punched him in the arm when he realized Seifer was just messing with him.

"Asshole!"

"Shithead."

After nine years below ground, the sun was blinding. He could barely see anything, and his eyes watered as he looked around, but the desert air was warm and fresh and smelled unlike anything he could remember.

Zell pressed something into Seifer's hands – sunglasses, and Seifer slipped them on as he followed Zell to his car. Through darkened lenses, Seifer stared at the landscape outside the car window, unable to believe this was real. It didn't feel real, like this was a dream and he would wake up and find himself back in his cell with years to go.

The sky was impossibly blue and clear, not a cloud in the sky, and he took long, deep breaths of fresh air as he smiled at the cactus and boulders and mountains in the distance. Before prison, before Ultimecia, Seifer took all this for granted. That stupid kid they locked up nine years ago didn't appreciate any of it. Not the sun, not the breeze, not the sky, and not even the air in his lungs.

Seifer rolled the window down and stuck his hand out to feel the wind against it, like he was a kid and caught Zell's grin from the corner of his eye.

"Shut up," Seifer said before Zell could comment.

"You gonna hang your head out like a dog next?"

"Would it embarrass you if did?"

"Knock yourself out," Zell said.

Seifer stuck his face out the window so he could feel the breeze and the sun on his face.

Deling City was bigger than Seifer remembered and he looked around, wary of all the activity and all the lights. He knew it would pass, but he felt like a man coming out of a long coma, only to find the world around him had completely changed.

Their first stop was the hotel, and then on to a clothing shop a few doors down. Zell waited patiently in a chair, playing with his phone as Seifer picked out a few things. There was no way he was going to walk around in his old trench coat. Might as well pin a target to his back and beg someone to shoot him.

He chose a basic wardrobe and some essentials. T-shirts, jeans and a few heavier items for the cold weather in Centra to tide him over until spring.

"So, what do you wanna do?" Zell asked as they headed to the hotel elevator. "Grab some dinner? Maybe head to the bar?"

Seifer did not expect to feel so paranoid about going out in public, but after being locked up so long, the world was too big.

Zell took one look at him and understood without being told it was too much too soon. He ordered a pizza and produced a bottle of scotch and a deck of Triple Triad cards. It wasn't the exciting night Seifer envisioned while lying in his cell, but he was free to choose what he wished to do, and that was more freedom than he'd experienced in a decade.

The pizza was only marginally better than what they'd served in prison, but at least it was hot, and that was more than he could say for its counterpart.

They played cards for a while, but three tumblers of whiskey saw Seifer passed out face down on the bed sometime after midnight. He woke fully clothed, shoes still on, and across the way, on the other bed, Zell snored lightly with his face turned toward Seifer.

Zell's face in sleep was so appealing, Seifer had half a mind to climb in bed beside him.

Seifer _really_ needed to get laid.

When he woke, Zell ordered room service for breakfast. It was just bacon, eggs and toast, but it was the best meal Seifer could ever remember having. He savored every bite and groaned with delight over the bacon.

"Coffee?" Zell asked.

"Naw," Seifer said around a bite of toast. "I'm good."

"Do I need to order more, Almasy?" Zell asked, eying the empty plates.

"Some biscuits and gravy would be nice."

"Fine, but I don't ever give me shit about the way I eat ever again."

"Deal," Seifer said, knowing he would never stick to it.

It was almost noon by the time Seifer was done, and he wanted to stretch out on that big, soft bed and take a nice, long nap without interruption.

"So, what do you feel like doing today?" Zell asked.

"Absolutely nothing."

"You're gonna just hang out in the room?"

"Why the hell not?"

"Dunno, just figured you'd want to go out, like, to a bar or a strip club or something."

Seifer snorted and flopped down onto the bed with a pleased groan.

"Can't touch, so why bother?" Seifer asked. "I'd just be torturing myself. Besides, I doubt that would be much fun for you. I mean, unless you really wanna go."

"Been there done that, no fun." Zell tossed him the remote. "Find something good to watch on TV."

Seifer obliged and flicked through the channels in search of something that would either entertain him or put him to sleep quick. He stopped when he saw a familiar film and gave a little laugh. On screen, a Knight fought off a ruby dragon as his Sorceress cowered in fear behind him.

"Hey, I know this movie," Zell said, plopping down beside him. "Did you know that's Squall's dad?"

"Who?"

"The Knight," Zell said. "He's the president of Esthar now, but he was an actor for a while."

"Are you for real?" Seifer asked. "Didn't know Leonhart had family besides Sis."

"Yup," Zell said. "We met him during the war. Good guy. Kind of a goof."

"Huh."

"Oh, and that's not a prop," Zell said and pointed to the dragon. "That was a real freakin' dragon, and Laguna didn't have a clue. Crazy, huh?"

"…yeah, crazy," Seifer echoed.

Onscreen, the Knight declared his undying devotion to the Sorceress and Seifer studied the man's face. He saw only a passing resemblance to his childhood rival, but there was enough not to question it.

How fucking ironic.

Feeling like a copycat and a fraud, Seifer tossed the remote back to Zell.

"You find something."

"You don't want to watch it?"

"Naw, I saw it a thousand times when I was a kid."

Zell flipped through channels, and Seifer wondered why Zell was on his bed. Seifer didn't mind, but he was hyper-aware of how close Zell was. Less than half a foot of space between them, near enough to test Zell's limits, but Seifer detected nothing that indicated Zell was there for any other reason than to hang out.

* * *

Seifer spent a week on his own in Deling City, sorting out the details of his inheritance with a lawyer and the bank. He didn't go out much. He couldn't get used to the noise and the traffic and bustle people's lives going on around him.

The world kept turning while Seifer was locked away, and he was recognized less often than he expected. Most paid him no mind, and even those that looked a little too long left him alone. Life moved on, and Seifer Almasy and his crimes were now just stories in the history books.

Once his affairs were sorted, Seifer got on a train to Centra with no intention or interest in ever returning to Deling City. In Capetown, the village closest to the Orphanage, Seifer rented a car and drove out to the property.

Zell's pictures did not prepare him for how bad the place really was. There was no electricity or running water, and a drunk man who smelled of piss and garbage and body odor was passed out in the back room. Seifer woke him, gave him a handful of Gil, a six pack and sent him on his way, then walked through the ruined rooms one by one.

It would be easier to push the place over and start fresh, but this was his home, and the thought of levelling it was unbearable.

When it started to rain, Seifer went outside and stood in a downpour because he could. He relished the scent of wet earth and the delightful, tingling chill it brought to his skin. Ten long years since he'd smelled or tasted rain, and he wondered why it never mattered to him before.

The whole first week was spent getting the electricity and plumbing back in order. The power still flickered when he used too many appliances at once, and would go out completely during storms. Only the front bathroom was usable, and the water heater was too rusted to repair, but there was running water, and that was progress.

The week that followed was devoted to clearing out the debris and patching holes in the roof. Seifer didn't mind the work at all. It gave him something to do, and even when it frustrated him how bad the place was, he pictured what it would look like when he was done.

He bought a beat up pick-up truck from a guy in town. It wasn't pretty and it needed some work, but it served his needs well enough. The carburetor needed a rebuild, and Seifer wished Zell was around to do it instead, since he was more mechanically inclined and could have done the job in half the time.

The third week, Zell came to visit on a five day leave. When he arrived, Seifer picked him up and tried to ignore the nervous flutter in his stomach at the thought of being with Zell for a long weekend.

Zell commented on the progress of the house, investigated the fridge, and helped himself to a beer.

"You don't have any food."

"Cabinet."

Zell inspected the stacks of canned soup and boxes of snack cakes inside, dismayed by the selection.

"You eat worse than Selphie," Zell said. "Get your keys. We're getting back in the truck and we're going to the store."

"Why?"

"Man cannot live on soup alone," Zell said. "Come on. I'll get some steaks and some potatoes and stuff."

"Can you cook?" Seifer asked warily.

"Guess you'll just have to find out," Zell said. "You have a grill?"

"Outside."

Zell actually could cook. Seifer's steak was perfectly seasoned, medium rare, the way he liked it, and he savored every bite. Zell also whipped up cheesy potatoes and gyshal salad with homemade strawberry vinaigrette dressing and buttery rolls so delicious, Seifer ate four of them.

"Well, damn, shithead," Seifer said. "I'm impressed."

"Better than soup," Zell said with a shrug. "If there's no food in that fridge next time I visit, I'm gonna make _me_ a steak and you can eat soup."

"Try it and I'll beat you to a bloody pulp then make you watch while I eat your steak."

Zell snorted. "You can try."

"Wanna try me now?" Seifer challenged.

"You wanna fight?"

"Why the hell not?" Seifer asked. "Something to do."

"Okay," Zell said, cracking his knuckles. "You asked for it."

Outside, Zell took a few jabs at him and Seifer ducked, grinned and then was blindsided by a left hook that left his ears ringing. Seifer returned fire, but Zell dodged neatly and backed up to get out of Seifer's way.

It took Seifer about five minutes to realize Zell was freakishly strong, and Seifer had forgotten just how good a brawler he was. He was short, but definitely not a pushover. He hit hard and he was _fast_. For every hit Seifer landed, Zell landed three.

Seifer kicked Zell in the back of the knee and sent him to the ground, and he used his weight to wrestle and subdue because he was otherwise getting his ass kicked. The two grappled until Zell was face down in the grass with one arm twisted behind his back.

Seifer's blood sang with lust as he straddled Zell's waist. Way, _way_ too turned on for his own good.

"Get off me," Zell growled.

"What are you going to do if I don't?"

"Your funeral. Let me up."

Seifer leaned down, drawn in by curiosity. He wondered what Zell would do if he made it known how much he wanted him. And holy shit, did Seifer want him, half-mad with the temptation to grab a fist full of Zell's hair and fuck him senseless.

He checked himself at the last minute and whispered in Zell's ear.

"I win."

He seriously needed to cool it. There was no indication Zell was interested, and Seifer didn't want to jeopardize the last nine years of whatever this was they were doing. He wasn't even sure why he was interested. Zell wasn't his type, though _type_ was a very loose definition when it came to what drew Seifer's attention.

The Seifer of old would have made a move without thought of the consequences, especially since the risk of getting punched in the face was just as great as the possibility of getting laid.

But it wasn't worth what he might lose.

He let Zell up, still painfully aroused and frustrated, and turned away so Zell wouldn't see it in his face.

He wasn't prepared for the sweep kick that sent him to the ground. Above him, Zell grinned down at him, hands on his hips, cocky as shit and way too cute for a guy whose hair should be a registered weapon.

"No," Zell said with a smile. "I win."

* * *

During Zell's second visit, things are fine until Seifer decides to lean down and kiss Zell on the mouth.

Zell is too stunned to react at first, and as Seifer pulls back, exceptionally casual about it, and Zell has a delayed reaction – a sharp, hot throb of lust, followed by absolute terror.

Seifer acts like it's no big deal. And maybe it isn't. It's the kind of kiss Selphie or Quistis might lay on him. Friendly, affectionate, chaste. Yet, it starts a firestorm of confusion that he can't make sense of. He sits on the floor of the torn apart bathroom and wonders why Seifer did it.

There are only two things that motivate Seifer as far as Zell knows: his own entertainment, or self-interest. Zell suspects Seifer is fucking with him, that he wants a reaction, but Zell isn't sure what reaction Seifer expected.

He doesn't know what to say or do about it. He hasn't considered anything beyond friendship, and until now, Zell hasn't really noticed how attractive Seifer is, and now he can't stop thinking about where that kiss might have led if Zell responded.

Seifer is too casual when he hands Zell a beer, as if nothing happened. Zell doesn't know what to say, so he stays silent as they clean up for the day. Seifer's eyes follow him, and as Zell marinates chicken for dinner, he can't even meet Seifer's gaze.

It's like a switch flipped, and everything feels upside down. He's never wanted anything from Seifer other than what they already have. It never once occurred to Zell there might be something more, but what if there is? Or there could be if he gave it a shot?

Zell is tired of being alone. He's so desperate for something to call his own, he's ready to give in, date a girl from his Ma's church, maybe marry her, have a few kids and spend the rest of his life living a lie, just so he isn't alone anymore. He just wants to love someone and be loved in return.

And now there's this, and he's not sure what to think.

They sit through dinner in silence and Zell drinks more than usual to shut up all the questions rolling around inside his skull, but the more he thinks, the more depressed and confused he is. After years of conversation, about everything, anything, Zell is shit scared he's screwed things up over a peck on the lips that means nothing.

Then again, Seifer doesn't do anything without reason.

Seifer is overly casual and acts as though he's content with the silence, but the way he's watching makes Zell nervous.

Finally, when Zell is drunk and brave enough to talk, he asks:

"What the hell was that earlier?"

"Why? Did it freak you out?"

"Well, I sure as hell didn't expect it," Zell says. "I mean it's not like…"

"Like what?"

"I just really hadn't thought about it. I mean, what were you doing? Trying to hook up? Are we even friends?"

"Relax. It was just a kiss. Don't read more into it than there was."

"I'm not interested in a hook up," Zell says, and he means it. "Not with you."

"Then what do you want from me?" Seifer asks. "Why are you here?"

"I don't know how to answer that question."

"For fuck's sake, Chicken-wuss, what do you want?"

Zell doesn't know what to say, and he never imagined Seifer might actually be interested in more. For all Seifer's flirting over the years, Zell just thought it was just Seifer trying to get a rise out of him.

He finishes his beer and stares at the fading photo on the wall of the six of them as children in front of the lighthouse. He wishes things were still that simple, and he wishes he wasn't still so confused. He's tired of games and hook-ups, and he needs and wants so much more, and he's not so sure Seifer understands that.

Zell tries to explain, but he becomes bitter and angry, resentful and envious of everyone else and their normal lives. Families and kids and divorces and houses in the suburbs, it's all so sickeningly normal and real. He wants something that's going to last, and he wants Seifer to know he's not up for a fuck buddy or any more games.

He spills his guts, admits more than he wants to, and he expects Seifer's mockery and laughter, but Seifer doesn't say anything at all.

"As far as you're concerned," Zell says. "I don't know what I want from you. You know me better than anyone else, and that scares the shit out of me. You, of all people. I'm supposed to hate you, but I can't."

Seifer folds Zell into his chest and holds on tight. Zell wants to throw punches and feel his fists connect with something, just so he doesn't have to feel the inexplicable grief and rage welling up inside. He wants to fight and scream, but instead, he bursts into tears.

"Stop bawlin'," Seifer murmurs. "You're all right."

He doesn't know why Seifer's doing this, but it's exactly what Zell needs. The fight drains out of him as Seifer holds him tighter. He's enveloped in the scent of fabric softener and a hint of aftershave and he doesn't want Seifer to let go.

"I'm better than nobody, right?" Seifer asks, and there's not even a hint of Seifer's usual sarcasm as he throws Zell's own words back at him.

Fingers twine through Zell's hair, and this time, when Seifer kisses him, Zell kisses him back. It's unexpectedly gentle, as though Seifer isn't sure about this either.

Zell doesn't want this to be an awkward thing that they both regret tomorrow. He pushes Seifer away, his cheeks blazing. He doesn't know what he's doing, or what Seifer's motivation is, and he's afraid of how much he wants this to happen.

"I said I don't want a hook-up."

"This isn't a hook-up."

"Then what is it?"

"This is me giving you what you want, shithead," Seifer says drawing his fingertips down over the lines of Zell's tattoo. "I thought that was obvious."

"I really hate you sometimes, Almasy."

"Yeah, but you're still here, aren't you?"

Seifer hooks a finger under Zell's chin and forces him to look him in the eye.

"I'll be whatever you need me to be, Dincht," Seifer says with a shrug. "Fight me, fuck me, I don't care. Just, stick around for a while."

Zell leans back against the wall and draws in a shaky breath. He's never seen Seifer look so unguarded or vulnerable before, and Zell smiles wryly and offers a shrug.

"Can't we do both?"

Zell is rewarded with a smile that is less cocky than it is pleased.

"Then come here," Seifer says.

Zell can scarcely believe this is happening, or how much he wants it to. All his fear melts away and as Seifer's lips grow a little bolder, Zell forgets for a minute that this is Seifer Almasy, bane of his existence.

Then, Seifer's mouth and hands are all over him and Zell forgets about the irony of letting this happen. And when Seifer drops to his knees and unbuttons Zell's jeans and his lips move over hip bones and abdomen,  Zell loses all sense of time and reason. It's all he can do not to beg and Seifer's mouth works its way steadily lower, one agonizing centimeter at a time.

This is _not_ like the drunken hookups, though Zell is definitely not sober. Seifer's in no hurry to get it over with and he draws it out in a way Zell has only ever fantasized about.

It doesn't take long before Zell's close to the edge, panting and gasping as Seifer's mouth surrounds him. His fingers dig into Seifer's shoulders and he hisses a warning, sags into the wall and his head tilts toward the ceiling as he comes with a hoarse cry.

Seifer wipes his mouth and smiles up at him, triumphant and smug.

"...bastard," Zell breathes.

"You wanna stop?"

"Hell no."

There's real heat in Seifer's kiss. His mouth is hungry and his eyes flash with desire as he pushes Zell to the bedroom. The remainder of clothing is shed and tossed aside and Seifer slings Zell onto the bed with a wide grin that Zell can't help but return as he takes Seifer in.

Zell can't help but stare. It's not the first time he's seen the man naked – Hyne knows, he flaunted what he had his whole life and with good reason, but it's the first time Zell sees more than arrogance and vanity. Seifer is beautiful in his own way, there's beauty in the lean, hard lines of his body, all muscle and bone and sinew and a jaw-line even straight men would envy.

In spite of all that heat and all that passion, it isn't rushed. Seifer takes his time, and Zell is hard again when Seifer finally pins him face-down on the bed and eases himself slowly inside.

To Zell's surprise, Seifer is cautious, careful, but it feels incredible and this time when Zell comes, Seifer goes with him. His grip is fierce and he buries his moans against Zell's temple, and it's a while before either moves.  

When Seifer rolls away, he laughs and musses Zell's hair.  

"You don't have to treat me like I'm gonna break," Zell says.  "I'm fucked up, but I'm not fragile." 

"You looked like a scared little rabbit," Seifer says with a grin. "Didn't wanna scare you away."

"I didn't look like a rabbit."

Seifer snorts and rolls over to face Zell.

"So, we good, shithead?" Seifer asks.  You're not gonna run away?" 

Zell smirks. Funny, how needy and uncertain he sounds.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to the readers who commented, left kudos, bookmarked or subscribed! Appreciate you!


	4. Chapter 4

Later that spring, Zell is summoned to the command office the minute he walks in the door. He's just returned from Centra, and his first thought is that he's been found out and is about to receive a reprimand for consorting with the enemy.

There's no reason Squall or anyone else would care, but as he heads up to Squall's office, he thinks about how to explain himself. He shouldn't care what anyone thinks, but he isn't ready for anyone to know, and he doubts anyone will approve.

It's a mission, and Zell is on a boat within the hour. He's appointed squad captain, and he reads over the mission briefing in the cabin while the others chat among themselves.

A gas leak ignited and reduced a Dolletian Elementary school to rubble. SeeD is contracted to help recover any survivors and the bodies of the deceased.

Zell isn't prepared for the sight that greets him when they arrive. There's almost nothing left, and thick, dark smoke rises from the rubble, and it smells of melted plastic and wood fire and something like cooked pork, the source of which Zell can't think too hard about or for too long. Distraught parents mill around the scene as the fire department extinguishes the last of the blaze.

He also isn't prepared for the emotional toll this task takes on him. Finding and retrieving bodies, most of them young children isn't something Zell is used to doing. Halfway through the first day, after finding several too late, Zell finds a spot to hide and falls apart.

Crouched against the broken wall and shielded from the rain above by a bit of charred roof, Zell locks his hands behind his head and sobs quietly into his knees. Once the dam breaks, it's a while before he can stop. When there are no tears left, Zell gets to his feet and continues the grim work, numb and dazed and with little hope there will be any survivors at all.

That night, their faces haunt him in his dreams. He wakes up, screaming and with tears in his eyes. His team is roused by his outburst, and they look back at him in annoyance for waking them. Sick and shaken, Zell is unable to go back to sleep, and he lies there the rest of the night and wonders how they can sleep after all this.

The next day is no better. If Zell thought it would get easier, he was fooling himself. He recovers body after body, and the dreams come again that night and Zell wonders if he will ever get a good night sleep again.

He wishes he could walk away from this – get on a train to Centra and never look back. Seifer would understand, and maybe even welcome him, but Zell keeps digging, through brick and chunks of concrete without any hope of finding someone alive. Each body they find cuts a little deeper.

When a small cry reaches his ears, he doesn't dare believe it's real.

"Help me," the voice pleads, and Zell starts to dig again, this time in earnest, until he uncovers the shape of another child.

She is broken and bleeding, but she's alive, and when her eyes fall on him, she bursts into tears of relief. Zell isn't sure if he's dreaming or if this is really happening, but he picks her out of the rubble and gathers her into his arms, holding her close enough to feel her racing heartbeat against his chest.

"It's okay," he says. "I got you."

Out of all those lost, Zell has only saved one, but that one feels like a miracle.

He is unaware of the cameras immortalizing the moment he carries the girl out of the disaster. He isn't aware that he's crying until a young woman takes the girl from his arms and wipes away his tears.

"What's your name?" she asks.

"Zell Dincht, SeeD, rank A," he says automatically.

Back at Garden, everyone wants to tell him what a good job he's done, and they show him copies of his photo in the Galbadian Times and in the Balamb Chronicle, carrying the girl to safety. They tell him he's a hero, but he doesn't feel like one. The girl's family tries to get in touch, to offer their thanks and appreciation, asks to met him, but Zell turns them down. So many others were lost, and it seems wrong to accept recognition and praise.

No one notices how quiet he's become except his Ma. He doesn't talk to her about it, but she makes him a plate of Balamb fish and sends him back to Garden with a whole cherry pie to cheer him up. She saw the paper, like everyone else. She knows without asking why he's so upset.

He asks to take leave a week early, and Squall grants it without asking why. Zell is on a train to Centra that afternoon, and when Seifer picks him up the following morning, he fakes a smile but Seifer sees right through it. Zell tries to crack jokes, but every one of them falls flat and he gives up and lapses into silence for the rest of the drive.

At the house, he dumps his bag in Seifer's room and heads to the kitchen for a drink. Seifer's already poured him one, and Zell takes the tumbler of whiskey from his hand and drinks it down in one swallow. Seifer pours him another and Zell drinks that down, too.

"Do you need to cry about it, shithead?"

Zell shakes his head, but then a strangled sob bursts out and he slides down the cabinet to the floor and bawls into his knees. Seifer sits beside him and drops an arm around Zell's shoulders. He lets Zell cry without judgment and gathers him into his chest, one hand clasped around the back of Zell's head.

It's a long time before Zell stops crying, and even longer before Seifer releases him.

He gets good and drunk that night. Seifer does his best to fuck Zell's grief away, and it works for a while. It's Seifer's way of showing compassion and it's easy to forget about the ghosts that haunt him when Seifer's above him, inside him, his hands wrapped around Zell's wrists. Easy to forget the way his chest hurts when Seifer commands all his attention.

He falls asleep all tangled up in the sheets with his face pressed into Seifer's side. Hours later, he wakes up with images body-strewn rubble in his head, and he can't stop screaming.

Seifer draws him back down into the bed and holds onto him until he stops shaking.

"That bad?"

"Worse."

Afterward, Zell can't seem to fall back asleep and Seifer does his best to distract him.

In the morning, Zell finds a copy of the Galbadian times in the living room with his picture on the cover, the wounded girl in his arms. He sits down on the couch and skims the article he never bothered to read. It doesn't tell him anything he didn't already know, but the article calls him brave and heroic.

He isn't either of those things. He was just doing a job.

"You wanna tell me about it?" Seifer asks when he sees Zell looking at the article.

"It's all here," Zell says.

Zell tosses the paper aside and gets up. He doesn't want to think or talk or cry anymore, and as much as he enjoys all the filthy things Seifer does to him, he needs a distraction that isn't sex.

"I need to work," Zell says. "Where did you leave off?"

"Roof," Seifer said. "Actually fixing it, not just patching."

"Then let's go."

Zell throws himself into the job, and he doesn't think about anything but what he's doing. By mid afternoon, he has a bit of a sunburn and his body's drenched in sweat. He peels off his t-shirt and wipes his face with it. He sits on the ridgepole, facing the beach and wonders about the lighthouse.

"You been up there yet?"

"I popped in once or twice, didn't stay long," Seifer says. "It's a mess."

"Wanna go check it out?"

"Might as well," Seifer agrees.

With a six pack in hand they cross the beach to the lighthouse and climb the narrow stairs to the top. They weren't allowed inside as kids. The stairs were too many and too steep, and the door was always locked.

They find yellowed log books and a stash of old liquor bottles, dusty model ships and faded art prints on the wall. There's a metal-framed bed in the center of the room, the mattress still encased in plastic and a thin,moth-eaten blanket thrown over it. Beneath the bed are a dozen or so more bottles, and some still contain alcohol.

Seifer inspects the huge lens of the spotlight while Zell pokes through things on the desk. There is an obsolete map, the edges crumbling into dust, letters of little interest, and a photo album.

Inside are old photos of Cid and Edea when they are young. Zell sits on the bed and flips through them, a page at a time and then starts over as Seifer continues to inspect the spotlight. Zell hears a clinking sound as Seifer attempts to turn it on. The lens is cracked and Zell suspects the bulb or bulbs burned out a long time ago.

"What are you looking at?" Seifer asks as he drops onto the bed behind Zell.

"Cid's photo album," Zell says.

Seifer leans his chin against Zell's shoulder and peers down at the pages. Zell angles the album so Seifer can see the photos better, and he stays silent as Zell flips through the pages.

There is a series of photos of them as children, and Seifer's laugh is rich and warm in Zell's ear as he spies one of himself, his pudgy arms crossed and his gaze full of disdain. Zell is crying in the back ground.

"Hard to believe we were ever that little," Zell says.

"Even back then, you were a cry baby."

"And you were an ass," Zell says. "Shit, I hated you."

Seifer's nuzzles Zell's neck and a shiver of excitement ripples through Zell's body.

"What about now?"

"You're still an ass," Zell says. "And I still hate you. Sometimes."

"Really?"

He presses his lips to Zell's temple and works his way down to his jaw. A hand sweeps over Zell's abdomen and dips beneath the waistband of his pants. Zell grunts softly as Seifer takes hold of him but otherwise ignores Seifer's attentions.

The photos at the end were too recent to belong to Edea, and Zell smiles at photos of a happy Quistis with her fiancee, Ben, and all three of the adorable but demonic Kinneas girls.

"I think Cid was staying here for a while," Zell says.

"Explains all the empty bottles. Looks like he went on one hell of a bender," Seifer observes. "Not too long ago, either."

Zell tries to picture Cid sitting up here, all alone, trying to chase his grief away with alcohol and memories. It isn't much different from what Zell does to himself from time to time, and he's no stranger to getting smashed in hotel rooms all by himself. Zell has no right to judge.

"That's kinda sad," Zell remarks. "Sleeping up here, all alone, getting drunk by yourself..."

"Maybe not so bad," Seifer says. "Plenty of fresh air. Nice view. I mean, if I was gonna drink myself into a coma, this is not the worst place I could pick."

Zell nods and leans back into Seifer chest, unable to ignore the pleasant ache in his groin brought on by Seifer's bold touch. Seifer notices and tosses the photo album aside with a grin.

Later, they sit in the dark, legs dangling over the edge of the observation deck with the breeze on their faces, drinking the dregs of Cid's leftover booze. Zell hugs the railing in front of him and wishes he didn't have to leave so soon.

He wonders what would happen if he went AWOL, just decided not to go back. Would they strip him of his high rank and decorations? Lock him in the brig for a while? Zell doesn't know what SeeD does to deserters, and as much as he would like to stay, he doesn't want to go out like that. But, he knows his time with SeeD is coming to an end, and soon.

His ten year anniversary is coming up. If he can stick it out that long, he's entitled to a small amount of retirement pay each month. It isn't a lot, but if he stays with his Ma until he figures out what to do next, he can live on it and still have some leftover to put into savings. He could teach, but he doesn't want to. Not at Garden, anyway. Maybe, he can get a loan and set up his own studio in Balamb.

Seifer senses the shift in his mood and punches him lightly in the arm.

"You wallowing?"

"Naw, just thinking."

"How about thinking out loud?" Seifer says. "I can't read your mind."

"Nothing major," Zell says. "Work stuff."

"If you hate it so much, why do you stay?"

"Never said I hate it..."

"But you're not happy."

Zell shrugs and folds his arms over the rail and rests his chin on them, and he stares out at the clear night sky and the dark ocean beyond.

"What _would_ make you happy?" Seifer asks.

"I don't know."

"Don't you think it's time you figure I out?" Seifer asks. "Instead of wasting time doing something you secretly hate until you snap or it actually kills you?"

"I don't..."

"Yes you do," Seifer said. "Don't lie to me, shithead. I see it in your face every time you get back on the train."

"What?"

"You always look like you're about to march in front of a firing squad."

Zell closes his eyes and snorts. Seifer isn't wrong. Not entirely right, but definitely not wrong. The more he's here, the more going back is a chore. This time will be especially hard, after that last mission.

"You don't owe them anything, Dincht," Seifer says. "Do what you want, not what they expect you to do."

"Easy for you to say," Zell says. "You don't have people counting on you."

There's a long silence and Zell thinks the conversation is over, which is fine with him. He doesn't want to waste any more of his time off devoted to thoughts of Garden or work or anything related to Balamb in general.

"You know what?" Seifer says after a long pause. "Go fuck yourself."

Seifer rises to his feet and Zell is confused about what just happened. Seifer's footsteps are on the stairs behind him, the door slams and a minute later, Seifer crosses the beach back to the house.

It takes him a minute to figure out why Seifer is pissed, and then Zell feels like a total asshole when he realizes what he said.

Back at the house, he finds Seifer sprawled out on the couch, staring emptily at the television. There's a bottle of vodka in his hand and he takes a long swallow before he sets it aside to glare at the news.

Zell switches off the television and sits down on the coffee table and faces Seifer.

"I'm sorry," Zell says. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."

"You didn't," Seifer snaps.

"Then why'd you storm off?"

"Because it's fucking true," Seifer says. "There isn't anyone counting on me."

Zell watches him for a minute and wonders if there's more to it or if Seifer's just feeling sorry for himself.

"You've never struck me as a guy who would want people to count on him."

"I don't," Seifer says.

"Then what's your problem?"

Seifer sits up and wipes a hand over his face. All the anger drains out of him as he stares at the floor.

"It just made me think of Raijin," Seifer says. "You know, there are times when I forget he's gone? I'll be in the middle of something and it'll hit me that he's not here anymore."

There's nothing Zell can say to this, but he bites his lip and clasps Seifer's knee in support.

"He counted on me," Seifer says. "For a lot of things. I let him down."

"Seifer-" Zell begins, but Seifer holds up a hand and shakes his head.

"I wasn't a very good friend to them," Seifer says. "They were so fucking loyal. They stuck with me, even when I was out of my goddamn mind, and I couldn't even stand up in that court room and absolve them."

"You didn't force them to follow you," Zell says. "They made that choice on their own."

"Yeah, because they _believed_ in me. They trusted that I was doing the right thing," Seifer says. "They trusted me and I ruined their lives."

Zell squeezes Seifer's knee, but Seifer won't look at him. Tears spill down his cheeks and he sniffles, chokes and hides his face in the palm of his hands.

"Hey," Zell says. "It's not your fault. I bet both of them would tell you so."

Seifer doesn't say anything, so Zell leans in until his forehead is pressed to Seifer's and he wraps a hand around the back of Seifer's head.

"Why are you here, Dincht?" Seifer asks softly. "I think, after all this time, I deserve a straight answer."

"Because I wanna be," Zell says with a shrug.

It's the closest thing to a straight answer that Zell can give him. Zell's own reasons are unclear to him, but after all these years, his motivation isn't really important anymore. He's just here and this is a thing, and that's the way it is.

"Why?" Seifer asks, his voice hoarse. "I'm a shitty person. Why waste your time?"

"When I figure it out, I'll let you know," Zell says. "In the meantime, maybe you should go see Fujin. Clear the air, you know?"

Seifer is surprised at this suggestion, as if it never occurred to him to pay his oldest friend a visit.

* * *

 

It took Seifer almost a week to work up the courage to call the women's prison and get his name put on the visitor's list. The whole way there, Seifer was nervous. The first few years, they wrote letters weekly, but after Raijin died, they lost touch.

He needn't have worried. Fujin's face lit up when she saw him and flashed a rare smile.

"Hey," he said into the phone. "Long time."

"HEALTHY," she said, eying Seifer's tan.

"Yeah," he said. "Got my own beach, Fu. You'd love it. It's quiet, secluded, plenty of sun."

"HAPPY?"

"Mostly."

Fujin eyed him critically from the other side of the glass.

"Why now?" she asked. "I haven't heard from you in two years."

"Yeah, I'm shit at, you know, bein' a decent person," he said. "But, I, ah, a friend suggested I come see you. Clear the air, catch up... apologize."

"A friend?"

Seifer wasn't so sure he wanted to bring Zell up.

"A friend," he confirmed.

"Girlfriend?"

"No," he said, but he wasn't able to stop himself from grinning. "Just a friend."

"Boyfriend," Fujin said, knowingly.

"A friend," he insisted. "Anyway, I wanted to... say... you know..."

Fujin's expression turned exasperated and she shook her head.

"STUPID."

"What? Why?"

"Why are you apologizing?" she demanded.

"You're here because of me," he said.

"Please spare me this self-pity bullshit," she said. "We could have walked away at any time. We chose to be there in it, with you. That was our decision, not yours, and you sure as hell don't have to apologize for that."

Seifer sat back in his chair, relieved she didn't hate him, but not entirely relieved of his guilt.

"How much longer do you have?"

"Too long," she said. "About six years."

"When you get out, you've got a place to come home to, okay?" Seifer said. "Got plenty of room."

Fujin crossed her arms over the desk and gazed at him sadly.

"Is it possible for us to still be a posse with only two people?"

"Fuck yeah," Seifer said. "Though, I'm really pissed at you for getting yourself stuck here longer. The fuck were you thinking, Fu?"

"Girl crossed me at the wrong time, and... it was stupid."

"Fucking right, it was stupid!"

There was a long moment of silence between them, and Fujin stared down at the desk, ashamed. She swallowed hard and she folded her arms tighter over her chest.

"I hope someone is looking after you, Seifer," she said. "I worry about you. Even though we don't stay in touch, I still worry."

"I don't need to be looked after," Seifer said. "But..."

"Who is he?"

Seifer shrugged. While he wasn't ashamed, but he wasn't sure Fujin would understand.

"We used to tell each other everything," Fujin said. "Why can't you say it?"

"I'm not sure how to explain."

"Try."

"It's Dincht," he admitted.

Fujin broke into a huge grin and Seifer was surprised into a smile of his own.

"I _knew_ it," she said.

"How the fuck-"

"Give me a break," she said. "I know you. Back when you still bothered to write, it was pretty obvious he meant something to you."

Seifer tried to remember what he'd written about Zell and couldn't recall anything that might have tipped her off. Fujin was more perceptive than anyone gave her credit for, so whatever it was, Fujin picked up on it long before Seifer was aware of it himself.

"Yeah, well, I don't know exactly what he is, but he's there," Seifer said.

"Good," she said. "I'll shank him with a spoon if he doesn't treat you right."

Seifer burst into laughter, but his heart ached for the kids they'd been, for the innocence they'd lost, and all the time they didn't get to find a place in the world.

"Hey, Fujin?"

"Yeah?"

"For what it's worth? Thanks. For standing by me. Means a lot."

"That's what friends do."

* * *

 

Everyone is dismayed when Zell gives his resignation. He can't tell them about the nightmares or that his heart isn't in it anymore. Instead, he tells them he needs a change, that he wants to travel and do some sight seeing. Outside of an extended trip to Centra, Zell doesn't plan to go anywhere of significance.

There are too many SeeDs and too few missions, so he doesn't feel bad about leaving them shorthanded, nor does Zell feel bad that he's about to walk away from what amounts to his life's work.

He stops by Squall's apartment while the commander is on a much needed vacation, intending to check the mail and water the plants. Squall hasn't asked him to stop in, but Zell still has the spare key from the Squall's last extended trip out of town. It won't hurt to stop in and check up on the place, and he's sure Squall will appreciate it.

A peculiar smell assaults him as he opens the door. He sets the stack of bills and junk mail aside as he steps into the foyer and he wrinkles his nose and wonders if something in the fridge has gone rancid. Two steps into the living room, Zell sees a pair of sock clad feet propped up on the arm rest of the couch and freezes in his tracks.

"Squall?" he calls.

There is no movement and no response and Zell is suddenly afraid. He steps forward and sees Squall's pale face and blue lips, and Zell's heart skips a beat. There is vomit on the couch, next to Squall's face, and more on the floor and Zell's legs begin to shake.

He moves to the Commander's side and shakes him, but there's no response at all. Zell isn't even sure Squall is alive. He looks dead, but Zell finds a weak pulse and slaps Squall's cheek to bring him around.

That's when he spies the bottle of vodka on the floor, and the empty bottle of pills next to it.

"God damn it, Leonhart. What did you do?"

Zell dials emergency services and by the time they arrive, Squall has stopped breathing. He rides in the ambulance with his friend as the paramedics force air into Squall's lungs. In one hand, Zell clutches the bottle of pills and in the other, his phone. He needs to call someone, but his mind is blank, so he scrolls through the numbers until he finds a name he recognizes.

The next few hours of waiting are torture. Selphie arrives and begins howling in grief when she hears the news. Irvine is forced to take her home after she demands to know what the doctors are doing and makes a huge scene, complete with the requisite screaming and crying and dramatic gestures. Zell is glad when she's gone, and he sits with Quistis next to Squall's bed and dozes off in he silence.

He dreams of hot dogs instead of dead children, and when he wakes, there's no news, but Squall's heart is still beating and that's something.

But when Squall does wake up, he screams Rinoa's name over and over until they have to sedate him.

After all this time, Squall still dreams of her, and he wonders why, after all this time, it's her name on his lips. It's been ten long years, and Rinoa's absence has eaten Squall alive.

Zell can't stand to be there anymore, so he takes a walk around the hospital and calls Seifer because he needs to talk to someone.

"By the way, I've got some other news," Zell says. "I gave my notice. I've got one week left as a SeeD."

"You're kidding me. When did you decide this?"

"Last week."

"So, what are you going to do if you're not a SeeD?"

"Stay with Ma for a while, I guess. Do some traveling," Zell says. "Maybe open a Dojo in Balamb."

"Why don't you crash here till you figure it out?" Seifer asks.

Zell's not really surprised Seifer's invited him, but he pretends to be. He knows already Seifer cares more than he lets on, and Zell knows he gets lonely. Zell is lonely, too.

"Are you serious or are you just messing with me?" Zell asks. "You really want me to?"

"Don't make me say it, shithead."

"Make you say what?"

"Just think about it," Seifer said. "Or don't. Just get your ass down here, okay?"

"I'll see you in a week, then."

"Yeah. See you soon."

* * *

 ~ ** _fin_** ~

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so, we've arrived at the opening events of "Promise."
> 
> Extra thanks to those that left comments and kudos! You guys are the best!


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